Tiny Chips of the Truth
by mypiratecat1
Summary: ONE SHOT.  William and Jack have yet another conversation over mugs of rum on the deck of the mighty Black Pearl.  They both know the value of respect, these days.


_**Dislaimer: **__If they were mine, I would be enjoying my own theme park. _

_**Author's note: **__In my fics, William is released from the Dutchman with certain conditions, and he and Elizabeth sail on the Black Pearl with Jack... who needs their help more than he will ever admit! _

_I saw "At World's End" for the 11th time, yesterday... one scene, in particular, inspired this one shot. Pirate Cat_

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The moon was high in the sky as the mighty Black Pearl glided through the calm waters of the Atlantic. The sky was a deep indigo blue and the air all about them smelled of autumn along the coast of the North American colonies. Once in a great while, the smell of wood smoke reminded the two men who were lounging upon the deck in the lantern light that the settlements were expanding... along with the British Empire...encroaching... making the world a smaller place... the thought that both of them would treat with disdain, if they gave it any thought at all.

It was rare that the Black Pearl made a journey this far north at this time of the year, and the only reason that they made the trip was to simply enjoy a colourful autumn change of scenery for a few days. Things had become a bit dicey in the Caribbean since an uprising of the local folk had brought in more vessels of the Royal Navy, and the Black Pearl's captain and crew decided to sail north and enjoy some peace and quiet until things settled down.

William Turner the Second was sharpening his small dagger with a whetstone, rhythmically and steadily stroking the blade, and polishing the ivory handle with a soft cloth. His father's dagger, which was always tucked in his sash or into the top of his black sea boot. His handsome face was serene, his long curly brown hair blowing about his face under its blue bandana... He was one of the most content men in the world upon this evening... his love, his soul mate, his wife had just gone to their snug cabin to put their baby son, Little Will, to bed in his own warm cradle. William could hear his wife's soft lullaby through the slightly open door...

His peculiar companion seemed to be equally content. His own booted feet were propped up on a crate, his lanky legs crossed at the ankle. His dark bronzed face was a study of concentration, his tongue stuck in the corner of his mouth, as he turned a piece of exotic and rare wood over and over in his slender, be-ringed hands. He had a small knife of his own... not one that was ever used as a weapon, but one that was used expressly for creating from the most common element that a pirate could obtain. Whittling was a useful pastime for keeping one's hands limber and strong, but surprisingly, Captain Jack Sparrow was a talented artist in the medium of woodcarving.

Stopping his own toil for a few moments, William sat back in his chair and watched his captain's deft movements with the small blade. "Be careful, Jack... remember, I just sharpened that... don't cut yourself...what are you making, anyway? The wood smells good, like incense..."

Jack smiled a bit as his dark eyes never left the object in his hands. He kept working, tiny, miniscule chips flying to and fro, landing in Jack's lap, hair and even in William's lap. "No worries, William... an' it's sandalwood from India," was the only reply.

"I see... you must have traded for it in Saint Kitts, eh? By the way...Jack?"

"Aye, whelp?"

William pondered upon something that he had wondered about for some time... nothing important, as far as pirating went, or as far as anything went, but something that had puzzled him ever since he and the captain had met, over four years ago, now.

"Jack," he started, again, "... I have a really silly question for you."

Jack kept whittling, turning his head back and forth, his tongue going to the other corner of his mouth, his eyebrows coming together in a slight frown, as he said, "I'm waitin'." The captain's gold teeth glittered in the lamplight, "... I'll be th' judge o' whether or not its a silly question..."

William ran a hand over the large scar upon his chest, then resumed sharpening his dagger, and said, "Why is it that you call me 'William', when no one else does, other than my father? From the start, it has been rare that you have called me 'Will', like everyone else."

Jack stopped what he was doing and looked at William, his face screwed up and his tongue firmly in its correct place, by now. "Wot kind of a question is _that_?"

"A silly one...never mind... I just wondered," the whetstone resumed rhythmically stroking the blade of the dagger, smoothly and steadily.

Jack blinked for a moment, and replied, "I call you that because it is your father's name. I would always call him 'William', but now I call _you _'William'... it's a good strong name..."

William smiled a bit, remembering his companion saying that it was a good strong name upon the day that William broke Jack out of jail, and their now lifelong adventures began. Jack seemed content that this was a sufficient answer, and began to hum to himself.

"That's _not_ a good enough answer, Jack... " William chuckled, glancing at his friend's instantaneous frown at this comment. The captain sighed in exasperation, and finally stopped whittling for a moment. William finally put down the whetstone, and resumed polishing the handle of the dagger, smiling inwardly at tweaking his friend's patience a bit... turnabout was certainly fair play these days, as far as tweaking patience was concerned.

"Alright, William... here is the truth," Jack finally said, sighing a bit, "... I give nicknames to many people, savvy? Ye know tha' I started t' call Elizabeth 'Izzy' because it always annoyed her, but now she likes it..."

"Remember, Jack, that you are the only one who can call her that, though..."

"Aye," Jack smiled a bit, then turned a bit serious, again, "... for a long time, William, I only called you things like 'whelp', or 'lad', even 'boy' only when I was perturbed at ye..." Jack's brown eyes got a faraway look, as he thought back over the events of the last two years. "... but I truly began t' call ye 'William' all o' th' time whilst I was in th' Locker..."

William turned to his friend, with veiled concern in his eyes... "In the Locker?" Jack rarely discussed the Locker, but upon this evening his control over his mental flickering was aided by the concentration of turning a simple piece of wood into a thing of beauty...

Jack continued softly, as if to himself, "... I started callin' ye 'William' for good, on th' Other Side... no more 'boy'... an' I started callin' Elizabeth 'Izzy' all o' th' time, then, too... it was comforting... I was dead for several months, wasn't I? Gave me time t' think about a lot o' things, whenever all o' those other Jack Sparrows weren't botherin' me..." he muttered.

Silence fell for a moment, and William said nothing, as Jack's mouth opened and closed several times, and he finally said, "... There were a few times when I thought that I saw ye there wif me, t' keep me company... I suppose that I hoped that th' hallucinations o' th' two o' ye bein' me friends wouldn't melt away like th' mirages that they were, if I treated ye like me friends, wif respect... but ye always faded away into th' heat... I suppose that one could call it wishful hallucinating ..." the small wood chips began to fall around them like so many fragrant grains of Locker sand.

"... but you acted annoyed when we found you, Jack..."

"... I didn't think ye were real... if that isn't annoyin', I don't know wot is... _you_ try living wif hallucinations followin' ye around all o' th' time..." Jack frowned, slightly.

William watched Jack's deft hands as they kept coaxing a form out of the shapeless chunk of wood. William watched Jack's face as it studied the object in his hands... dark, deep mysterious kohl-lined eyes that had seen far too much loneliness in his 30-some years.

Laying his dagger upon the top of the table, among the tiny wood chips, William leaned forward to catch Jack's gaze, and replied, "... it was the hallucinations that faded away, Jack... 'William' and 'Izzy' are still here... count on it, mate... we will always try to help you make the Locker fade away, just like the mirages did..."

Jack looked up at his friend, and smiled slightly. Finally placing the small carved object upon the tabletop, he reached for the cloth that William had used to polish the handle of his dagger and ran it over the lid to a tiny, sandalwood trinket box.

William stared at it in amazement, as the lid of the box had the names "William" and "Izzy" carved into it in the most beautiful script that William had ever seen. It had been carved in a matter of only about an hour or so, and as always, was made as a gift... Jack never kept any of his carvings for himself. "Elizabeth' wouldn't fit on th' lid, savvy?" the captain shrugged, goodnaturedly.

As he picked up some of the tiny wood chips with a tapered fingertip, Jack crushed them and inhaled their fragrance. He finally flicked them into the autumnal breeze, and finished what he was struggling so hard to explain to his friend... his first mate... a man who knew way more about him than anyone else on earth. Finally lifting his braided head up to look up and down the deck to see if anyone was listening, Jack leaned forward and looked William directly in the eye.

"To conclude th' answer t' your question, mate, I call ye 'William' because tha's wot I _want_ t' call ye... it is out of respect, mate... ye didn't look like much when I first met ye, but looks are always decieving..." the captain said, simply. "... 'William' is a good, strong name that fits a good, strong man..."

William nodded in understanding... it was rare that Jack would completely drop the mask that he hid behind, and he usually only did so in his present company. William always knew that it was a privilege when Jack opened up his heart with truth.

William's mind flickered back to one encounter on the deck of the Pearl at World's End... an encounter in which a pirate captain with gleaming, mad eyes watched a young man from the bowsprit...a young man who had quickly freed himself from the Pearl's brig because of half pin barrel hinges... a young man with conflicting emotions; the captain knowing that the young man's heart was truly not in his actions to betray his friends to Cutler Beckett, no matter how hard he had tried to make himself believe it... an encounter in which the captain's and the young man's friendship had resurfaced like it was escaping from another horrible Locker of misunderstanding.

Their friendship had never really been lost... it had only lost its true course, for a while. From that moment on, they sailed forward into history as strong allies, finally fully trusting each other completely. They had earned each other's hard won respect out of finally beingopen and honest with each other... and their friendship had grown stronger with each day that had passed, since.

"Besides," the captain winked, popping the cork on a bottle of rum and pouring two mugs, sliding the tiny piece of sandalwood art toward his first mate with a cheeky smirk, and bringing William back to the present, "Names bein' wot they are... 'William' an' 'Izzy' look quite nice carved on a trinket box...I hope that ye have some trinkets, mate."

William chuckled, and they both propped up their feet higher up onto the railing and contentedly watched the moon slip through some wispy clouds...

Jack's husky voice added, from the darkness,"... if ye don't have any trinkets, whelp, come see me..." His first mate laughed a little... he would still always be a "whelp" to Jack...

William put the trinket box to his nose, and inhaled the wonderful fragrance... mixed with the freshness of the sea air, the tang of the wood smoke from the coast, and for the honest feelings that were just imparted to him by his best friend, it made for a very fine evening, indeed. Never, he thought, had he expected to have a such a feeling of satisfaction for being called by his Christian name of William... a good, strong name for a good, strong man.

William grinned at his odd companion, who was taking a long drink from his mug, after which he belched a bit... Respect, William thought, goes both ways, when friends are both good, strong men. They were no longer the complete opposites that William had percieved them to be, at first... not at all. With a contented sigh, he, too, crushed the tiny sandalwood chips in his fingertips, and enjoyed the night sky.

Jack only momentarily broke the silence, "...Sandalwood smells nice, does it not? Izzy will like it..." And he belched a little again, as he and his first mate winked at each other, tapping their mugs together, toasting all of the truths that they now shared...

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End file.
